


Snip

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: M/M, Twin AU, minor sdr2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata cuts Kamukura's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iscythea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscythea/gifts).



Hinata wishes he could hate Kamukura.

But whenever he looks at Kamukura - tall and cold, his tone constantly annoyed - he remembers his younger brother. From before the surgery, that is. It’s hard to believe this is the same Kamukura Izuru that tugged on Hinata’s shirt and begged to sleep with him after having a nightmare. Or dozens of other ridiculous scenarios that Hinata has tried to forget.

He can’t, though, and it only makes the pain in his chest worse. 

Kamukura sits by the fireplace, sipping his tea quietly. He makes no move when Hinata enters the room, slamming the door shut loudly and shoving his coat onto the hanger. He’s had a bad day, and almost all of it was caused by Kamukura.

“You cut a chunk of Tsumiki’s hair off,” Hinata deadpans. Kamukura looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, then goes back to staring at the fire. It flickers, the shadows and lights dancing over Kamukura’s delicate features. They make his face look soft, almost pretty.

“It was an annoyance,” Kamukura answers simply, setting his tea down. “She wouldn’t stop crying over it. Her ramblings started off as background noise, but steadily grew to bore me. The logical way to end it was to cut it off.”

Hinata crosses his arms, frowning. Kamukura’s indifference is no surprise. At this point, he isn’t sure why he expects anything other than apathy. “So you thought the solution was to cut it off? Really?” He moves over to where Kamukura is sitting and debates kicking his back. “Is this some sort of internalized hatred?”

Kamukura turns to face Hinata, inching away from his foot. “Yes, it was necessary.”

“You’re disgusting.” He probably sounds angry – because he is. Kamukura rests his hands together, his gaze flickering from his tea to Hinata, as if debating which one was more important. “Look at me, Izuru!”

Most likely just because Hinata spoke, Kamukura pointedly looks at his tea. “I don’t take orders from you,” he sneers. Hinata, biting his lip, reaches down and scoops up the tea cup. It’s still ninety-percent full. He wonders if Kamukura got bored of it already.

“There is… perhaps…” Kamukura starts, his eyes following the tea cup. “A chance of me having a slight fixation for hair. It’s an annoyance.”

“Yeah, well,” Hinata dumps the tea into the fire. The fire sparks up, the flames crackling and spitting onto the wood. “Everything is an annoyance to you.”

So, Kamukura has a fixation for hair. Or, rather, a problem. Everyone knows Kamukura hates having his hair touched, but Hinata doesn’t see how that justifies him cutting off Tsumiki’s. Especially after Hinata spend hours convincing her to get it cut properly. 

Maybe he was right. Maybe it’s some sort of internalized problem. Maybe it’s Kamukura’s way of begging for someone to snap off all his hair. He’d murder them, but at least it’d be done with.

“Do you want me to cut it?” he says eventually.

Finally, Kamukura looks him in the eye. “No.”

Hinata makes his way to the kitchen. It’s an island, and he can still look into the living room, and at Kamukura on the floor. He puts the tea cup in the dishwasher, surveying the rest of the room. Kamukura obviously made himself something to eat. It smells like a five-star restaurant, and the pots and pans are lined neatly. A pang of jealousy hits him.

“Look, you obviously have a problem with your hair. I’m not waiting until you pull out Komaeda’s before doing something about it.”

He doesn’t like considering it, but probably feels pain. Probably. Maybe it’s fake, but Hinata’s been around Kamukura long enough to know when he’s acting out of anxiousness and not because he’s bored. 

“I said no, Hajime.”

Reminding himself that Kamukura is wrong, and he’s right, and Kamukura is an asshole, and he’s not, he takes a deep breath. “Sit down on the couch. I’ll grab the scissors.”

He goes to the bathroom and files through the drawers, finding a pair of medical scissors. His hands are shaking slightly. He has to find the will to calm down. Really, he’s not sure why he’s pushing this so hard. Any conversation they have ends up with an argument and more frustration. But…

But, nothing.

He really, really wishes he didn’t care.

Once he enters the living room again, the first thing he notices is that Kamukura is sitting on a chair, his hair smoothed down and tumbling down his back. Luckily, Hinata can’t see his face. He wonders what his expression is like.

“I’ll cut it shoulder length,” Hinata says. He brings up another chair behind Kamukura’s and sits down, flexing the scissor’s blades. They haven’t been used in what feels like months. 

“I know this’ll be hard for you, but make an attempt not to mess up.”

Hinata snorts despite his indignation and raises the scissors. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. He moves his hand down and cups the first few strands of hair into his palm. Kamukura’s hair is unruly and thick – Hinata never sees him brush it – and it takes him a few moments of fumbling to get the scissors in the correct position.

Slowly, he begins to snip off strands, shifting his knees to avoid the hair landing on his lap. Kamukura’s breathing is loud and heavy, and he jolts away from the chair when Hinata presses the tip of the scissors against his back by accident.

The more hair he cuts off, the louder Kamukura’s breathing gets, until he reaches the nape of Kamukura’s neck. He’s cut it a bit too short, but it looks decent. From the back, anyways. 

“Uh…” Hinata puts down the scissors. “I’m done.”

Kamukura stands up and immediately moves to the bathroom. Swallowing, Hinata follows carefully. He regrets this a bit, now, with the possibility of Kamukura becoming angry. That’s always a nuisance.

Kamukura peers at himself in the mirror, threading his hands through his hair. His expression is neutral. A good sign so far.

“So?” Hinata prompts.

With a grunt, Kamukura turns to him. “It’ll do,” he says. A few fingers are playing with his fringe. It’s… cute, actually. He did it when he was a kid, too.

“The proper term is ‘thank you’.”

Scoffing, Kamukura shoves him out of the way and returns to his spot near the fireplace. He’s still feeling at his hair.

Hinata settles down on the couch and turns on the TV, waiting. For what – he’s not sure, frankly. He shouldn’t expect a ‘thank you’ from Kamukura, of all people. 

It’s hours later, after Hinata’s done his homework, when Kamukura shows any sign of gratitude, in the form of a plate of food, its smell so delicious that it was worthy of being in a restaurant. 

Almost smugly, Hinata eats, watching Kamukura retreat into his room.

**Author's Note:**

> stilllll taking fic requests hello @ http://komakitty.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
